The Tempest

Soft brown wisps of hair dancing on her cheeks,
swaying to an unheard melody.
Humming the notes of a different life.
A different girl.

Each salty breath, a kiss on her skin.
A swift twirl, a quick dip, and slow ascend.
Following an intimate tempo,
a rhythm meant for two.
Each beat faster than the last,
stumbling to keep up.

Carelessly laughing,
slipping in the sand.
Cradled by warm rays,
a beckoning blue paradise.
Glistening in the current,
each wave murmuring her song.

The perfect Monet,
a beautiful masterpiece.
A refreshing touch,
baptizing her soul,
taking hold of her body.
Submerged in her cobalt bliss.

An untamed craving,
a new bride for his taking.
A tango of obsession.
A rough grip, a sharp turn, a rapid descend.
The tempo too fast,
crashing against her.
Overtaking her,
cutting into her.
Pulling her away.

This was not her sweet Monet,
but a savage Turner.
Greedily devouring her.
Weighing her down.
Stealing her,
taking a hold of her body.
Drowning in his misery.